Totally Luna
by Anrheithwyr
Summary: Totally Luna. Different. Strange. Looney Loopy Luna. All of these were her and none of them were. Luna is and always will be Luna. Even with Rolf. Or Neville. Or anyone.


_**I do not own Harry Potter. This was written for The Summer Theme Competition! by cutecudleyme. **_

_**/**_

_Dahlia is a genus of bushy, tuberous herbaceous perennial plants native to Mexico, Central America, and Colombia._

It was the summer of 2007, when most of her friends were married and already expanding their families. Her friends, when they met in a corner of the Leaky Cauldron, would ask why there seemed to be no one else. They found it odd that she seemed perfectly content traveling the world looking for, as Hermione put it, "possibly non-existent creatures" instead of staying in London and getting a real job. As if being a naturalist, an explorer wasn't real. Neville had, almost four years ago, married Hannah Abbott, which didn't upset Luna in the slightest. They had broken up within two years of dating, but to no one's fault. Besides, Luna was always calm, peaceful. Rarely shaken.

She was, as usual, being totally Luna, as Harry liked to say.

Luna was here in Colombia, looking for the Crumple-Horned Snorkack because an acquaintance and fellow hunter had mentioned that a member of his team had found what appeared to be Snorkack droppings. Eager and interested, she had hurried over, not even saying good-bye to anyone.

But after almost two weeks and no sign, she was beginning to become lonely. Most of the others in the camp were much older, grizzled men who found her amusing, in a quaint, childish way. No one else seemed to be her age or have her interests. Most have laughed off her fascination with the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. One man had discredited her simply because of the Quibbler. But she was Luna and none of that mattered.

Harry and Ginny and Neville sent her letters almost every day, asking questions about Columbia. She sent pictures back and letters, describing the beauty that surrounded her. Not once did she mention how lonely she was. Not once did she mention that she was, for the first time, realising how truly _different _she was, even compared to the other naturalists.

She headed out from the tent that she shared with three other women, wanting to walk, to think. The flowers had begun to bloom and fiercely, showing off how bright they were, how pretty. Even the flowers were boastful, like people.

She liked the dahlias best, so many different types and colours and sizes. Settling down in the flowers and taking a deep flowery breath, she pulled her camera out of a bag. She snapped several photos, already mentally writing today's log about the flowers, today's letters to Ginny. The pictures would brighten up the Potter home, she hoped. Luna's own walls were already over-flowing with pictures of friends and flowers and creatures and just _beauty. _No one seemed to see the world as Luna did, no one saw the beauty of even the tree branches quite the same way.

_Totally Luna. Different. Strange. Looney Loopy Luna. _The words hurt a little more, now that she was older. Now that she had opened her eyes and really _looked. _But still, she had to stand away from it all, and be herself. That was something she would always have. _Herself. _And friends, of course, wonderful friends, who didn't seem to understand her entirely, but tried to anyway.

"What are you doing out here?" asked a voice behind her and she turned to look at Rolf Scamander. He was one of the others in the camp, the grandson of an author. He was tall and lanky, awkward in his motions, like a newborn colt. Funny, according to the other girls. Cute, apparently. Several years older than Luna, with dark blonde hair and brown eyes. She coudln't recall having ever met him at Hogwarts, but he insistyou knowed that he remembered her, the odd little girl who believed in the unseen.

"It's supposed to rain, you know," he said, but settled in the flowers next to her anyway. "I suppose that doesn't bother you much, though? Does it?"

She doesn't respond, simply gazes back out at all the flowers spilling across the hills. Beautiful in the early morning. Beautiful and proud and together. No alone flowers here.

"I thought you'd like some company, seeing as you're all alone. Not that I'd make good company. My mother says I talk too much and don't leave room for anyone else's words. Do you think that? I'm Rolf, by the way. Scamander."

"I know," she says simply, smiling at him. He _did _talk a lot, but that was okay. He could fill up the empty air around them and she would just sit and listen. She told him this and he laughed.

"Usually, everyone says just the opposite. "Hush, Rolf" "Shut up, Rolf" No one seems to ever want to hear what I say," he grinned at her, but his face looked sad.

"You can talk. I won't tell you to hush. That would be rude."

"Thanks. Are you usually so nice? Or is it just because you don't know me? Are you just polite? I bet you have had a dozen boyfriends, you're so nice. Or maybe just one, because he couldn't stand to let you go, you were too nice."

"Just one. He's married now." she said calmly. Luna wasn't sure if she was nice or not. She simply enjoyed telling the truth, instead of twisting it like everyone else.

"Oh," said Rolf, his voice dropping. He seemed sad and disappointed. "I'll just leave you, then," he mumbled, staggering to his feet.

"He's not married to me. He's married to Hannah. _I'm _not married," explained Luna, laughing. "Why would you think that?" she asked, showing him her ringless hand. He laughed too, saying he was so silly.

"It's just, you seem different. Cute, in an unusual way, but also so..._free. _Like you don't care what anyone says or thinks. Like a butterfly or one of these flowers." he said, picking one of the larger dahlias and handing it to her. "I think I like you,"

"Thank you," she replied calmly, taking the flower. "I think the flowers are very prideful, though. Very self-absorbed."

He laughed and grinned down at her. "See what I mean? Who else would say that?"

"Anyone who looked, I suppose," she replied, and then stood up herself, reaching for her camera. "Might I take your picture, Rolf? Amongst all these prideful flowers? I'm sure they'd love it."

He nodded and she took his picture, over and over, the camera clicking as he laughed and made silly poses and then grabbed the camera, chasing after her, snapping photos of Luna. They ran around for hours, tossing shoes and socks aside to tumble through the dahlias, to wander down to the lake and talk. Amongst the flowers and the hot summer air, they laughed and joked and simply just stood, seeing what others did not. Noticing what others were too blind to see. Her body was warm, her cheeks pink every time he looked at her.

With Rolf, she felt completely, entirely, _totally Luna. _


End file.
